


just let me hide my weary heart in you

by janie_tangerine



Series: some flowers bloom dead [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Canon, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, What-If, everything you might expect if you read the Theon chapters in adwd, major ASOS/AFFC/ADWD spoilers, robb is a stubborn idiot but no one complains, the light at the end of the tunnel might be even more marginally closer, this might be the fluffiest this has gotten until now idek, this never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Robb is reunited with his sister and he's not interested in Theon's attempts to do what he thinks is the selfless thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii everyone it's been probably too long a time and of course I still am rubbish at this chaptered stories thing but I swear I'm trying. I am. And since I kept you waiting more than I thought I would, have an extra-long part. (If I think that this and the previous two were supposed to be just one chapter I laugh bitterly.) Also I won't be able to answer any comments for a week since I'm out of town, but I figured I'd post this now rather than doing it when it's April already.
> 
> In other news: nothing belongs to me and the title is from Steve Earle (A NEW ENTRY! I managed not to use Gaslight Anthem titles! News!). Also I'm entirely not sure I'm that great at writing Arya but I hope the result isn't too bad. Also this is three chapters just because I needed a Theon POV in the middle and if I had postponed the following Robb one to the next installment it would have totally looked out of place. Robb, hijacker of chapters.

As he waits, Robb tries not to get his hopes up too high. A couple of years ago he would have felt eager to hear the terms out, he would have been impatient, he would have been excited.

Right now, he’s not letting himself do anything. He doesn’t believe in rotten luck anymore, and _this_ occasion, if everything is true, would be rotten luck. After all, if it’s true it means that his sister would be delivered to him without even much effort, and that’s entirely too good not to have something rotten underneath.

Gods, how he wishes he could afford to trust people the way he used to. How he wishes.

Thankfully, he’s not left alone with his thoughts for too long - it doesn’t take much for the solar’s door to open again. Robb stands up as his great-uncle lets Sandor Clegane in, and Robb can’t help thinking _this war didn’t pay him any favors, either_. He’s still as sour as he was when he came to Winterfell, and his face is as ruined as back then, but… he looks somehow a lot older than he did, and a lot wearier, and he’s limping ever so slightly.

“Your Grace,” Clegane rasps the moment the door is closed.

“Ser. Please, do sit.”

Clegane’s expression becomes distasteful for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to be referred to in such a way, but then he sits down and Robb does as well – at least he doesn’t have to stare up at the man anymore.

“I will try to make this short, since I doubt that you’re interested in niceties. I imagine you want to know how I might have your sister and what has happened since she left King’s Landing.”

“Actually, I do already. Well, most of it. I know she left with people who were going to the Wall, and that most of them were killed. Then she spent some time in Harrenhaal and then some with the Brotherhood without banners, and then I know that you fought one of them and that she ran away and you had caught her on the road. Other than this, _yes_ , I would be most interested in knowing what else transpired.”

For a moment, Clegane looks entirely surprised. “How –”

“How do I know that? One of her friends stayed with the Brotherhood and he saw fit to tell me when I ran into them.”

“Very well, then there’s not much to tell. I ran into her on the road and I figured that you wouldn’t have been ungrateful if I had seen fit to bring her back to you and your mother in one piece. She didn’t believe me for a long time, and she _does_ quite pack a punch when she tries to run away from you, but I suppose that at some point she realized that it was merely convenient for me as well, if I followed through with it.”

“Convenient?”

“I will get to it shortly. So, I heard about your uncle’s wedding, and thinking that both you and your lady mother could have been found there, that’s where I headed.”

Robb’s blood runs cold. “You didn’t -”

“We arrived there just when the blood started to flow. And your sister was about to get herself killed along with your soldiers outside. I had to hit her on the back of the head so I could drag her away.”

“So - she saw what went on?”

“Just on the outside,” Clegane admits, shrugging. “I ran away from that stinking castle as fast as I could, and after that – let’s say that if news hadn’t come regarding how you were not there, things would have gone a lot worse than they actually have.”

“Meaning?”

“Stark, your sister had already killed more than one person on her own by the time I found her, and the first thing she did after coming back to herself was swearing that she’d kill me in my sleep and everyone named Frey later. When I heard that you weren’t dead yet and that you weren’t at Riverrun any more, you don’t know what it took to convince her to wait until you came back here and the roads were more secure – I sure as the seven hells wouldn’t have ran across the entire buggering realm just to find your army when you were moving every few days.”

“Right. So, where’s my sister?”

“The inn in the next village over. She said that she would _give me one chance to prove that I really meant this_ and that she wouldn’t escape from the room I left her in proved that I came back before midnight and that I would in fact bring her here. Otherwise, she’d see to do that and cut my throat first thing if she ever sees me again.”

Robb doesn’t really want to believe that _this_ is what his sister would say, but what does he know? She’s been mostly on her own for months, and probably had to learn to fend for herself if she has in fact killed people herself, so can he really be surprised? Clegane also looks like someone who’s tired, dead tired, and not much up for games or lying.

“Clearly, that’s up to you, but I should hope that your other sister was right when she sang your praises.”

“Wait – _Sansa_? Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, Sansa, and I haven’t seen her since I ran from Blackwater. Back then I thought I should have grabbed her and brought her along with me - maybe it’s a bad thing that I didn’t, but that’s not the matter at hand. The matter at hand is that before your father was killed, she _would_ sing your praises to the gods. About how honorable you were, and how just, and how you would do a marvelous job after your lord father passed. And in a particular occasion, when Joffrey Baratheon said that he’d bring her your head for a wedding present, she said under her breath that you would have brought her his. I doubt anyone other than me heard her, but she looked quite confident.”

_Hells_ , Robb thinks, _another person I failed_. He thinks he wants to cry.

“And that was the reason why I decided to try and talk to you in the first place. Any of the other blasted kings in this realm would probably have me killed on sight, but if she was right, at least you would hear my terms out.”

“Very well. What are your terms?”

“I hear that you will kneel to Stannis when this is all done. Am I right?”

“Quite so.”

“All right. Then I want a pardon from you and from him for everything that I might have done under Lannister orders since the war started.”

Robb had expected that - of course the man would want a guarantee that he wouldn’t have to be tried and that his head would stay on his neck.

“That’s quite reasonable. And I doubt Stannis has anything personal against you, so it should not be too hard to convince him to accept. What else?”

“I want a place in your army. Or your guard. Or wherever else you see fit, as long as it’s a dignified one. I spent years being at beck and call of bloody Joffrey Baratheon and I don’t want to repeat the experience.”

Well, _that_ wasn’t what Robb had expected, but… it’s really not unreasonable, either. And nothing that he couldn’t provide, even if _a place in the army_ could prove itself tricky. Then again, maybe he _does_ have another option. And while he’s pretty sure that it wouldn’t be a welcomed decision, maybe he knows what he should do.

“Ser, I would have no problem offering you a position in the actual army, but I don’t know how kindly would the soldiers take to having a former Lannister man leading them. Then again, I think I have something in mind, but I would ask you a question first.”

“By all means.”

“You said that you were in mind to _take Sansa with you_ when you flew King’s Landing. Why?”

Clegane takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands before staring back up at him. “Your sister didn’t deserve that nest of vipers and I went about showing it to her in all the wrong ways. But she still seemed to think that I could be a decent person when I stopped assuming that a long time ago. I asked her if she would come with me and she never said yes, and I left instead of dragging her along, and I’m sorry for it every bloody day, but I doubt I can do much about it now.”

Robb nods, feeling that there’s a lot more to that story, but it’s not the time to pry. And - well. Clegane is a _skilled_ warrior, and the gods know that he can use one in a specific instance.

“Right. I can make you a proposition, then. I will have to leave for King’s Landing shortly. As I’m sure you know, my wife has recently given me a heir.”

“I heard.”

“Her mother was also spying for Tywin Lannister and had done everything in her power to prevent it. Even after it was known that she was with child. I am still not sure that this castle is free of Lannister spies. I doubt anyone would try to attempt on her life, or my heir’s, until I am here, but when I’m gone… I could use someone making sure that they’re safe. I do realize that I’m not offering you a different position than the one you had in King’s Landing, but I don’t have a personal guard and I will hardly need one after the war is over. However… let’s say that I have some people that are looking for Sansa. If they ever were to find her and bring her back here, and if she wanted you as her personal guard, I would hardly refuse. Would this be an acceptable compromise for you?”

Robb sees Clegane’s eyes go wide at once – as if he had expected a much worse deal than what Robb just offered.

“It – it would be. More than acceptable,” Clegane says after a long pause. “But you really would go through with it?”

Robb has to stop himself from laughing out loud at that. “Ser, I don’t know what else people say about me throughout the Riverlands other than talking about how I didn’t die at the Red Wedding, but I went through with pardoning someone that a year ago I had vowed to kill with my bare hands if I ever had the chance. You do not look like someone intent on stabbing me in the back, nor do you talk like one, and I doubt you’re someone who talks about people with fondness, but that was the way you were talking about my sister before. I don’t see why I shouldn’t give you a chance proved that you do in fact give me back Arya. May I hear the rest of your terms now?”

“I had no other terms.”

For a moment, Robb feels thrown back. “You had – that was all you asked for?”

Clegane shrugs, still looking straight at him. “ _Your Grace_ , yes. Asking you for gold is ridiculous, since I suppose that if you took me into your service you would provide according payment. If I’m pardoned, I wouldn’t risk losing what lands my family owns, if my brother dies before then – and I doubt Stannis would let him live if he won the war and if my brother survived it in the first place. What else in the seven hells would I want?”

It really _does_ seem too good to be real, but then again, maybe it is high time that something doesn’t go entirely wrong, is it?

“Very well then. You said that my sister saw what happened at the Red Wedding, didn’t she?”

“She did. A good part of it. Why?”

“I would have told you to go and bring her here now, but I’m trying a few people this afternoon and the last thing I want is that she comes back while I’m beheading them. Be here with Arya after sunset - I will be waiting at the gates. The moment I see her, I will sign your pardon and make sure you have appropriate lodgings.”

“I will be there. Hells, she was right, damn her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your sister,” Clegane sighs. “I thought that while she might have been right about you before, she might not have been now. With your permission, I will go now.”

“You may.”

Clegane turns his back on him and leaves, and Robb lets out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.

It does sound entirely too good for it to be real and to come without a catch. And he has trusted the wrong people one too many times, but… maybe he just wants to think that this time might be different. He stands up and locks the door, and a moment later Theon comes out from the small room he had been staying in until now.

“Did I do something stupid again?” Robb asks, shrugging.

Theon is staring at him strangely, as if he can’t decide if Robb is being a complete idiot, but then he shakes his head. “He didn’t sound like he was lying,” Theon finally says. “And the gods know you deserve something to go the right way for once. Still, I guess – I guess I should get ready to go back to Winterfell, shouldn’t I?”

What? Robb has no clue of where that came from.

“Wait, and how did you reach that conclusion?”

At that, Theon does in fact look at him as if he was being a complete idiot, which feels, if you ask Robb, entirely refreshing. He had missed that look, and patience if it’s directed at him.

“He’s bringing back _your sister_.”

“So?”

“So I’m pretty sure that the last thing you need is my presence.”

“Sorry again, why?”

“Because you haven’t seen her in years and you certainly don’t need me around so that there’s a reason to ruin things not even a day after she’s brought to you, do you?”

Robb now is maybe getting what Theon is trying to imply, but he really hopes he’s wrong.

“Your presence around would be that reason?”

“Robb, you’re doing it again,” Theon says a moment later, his eyes sending him an almost fond look and his mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t reach them at all.

“What am I doing again?”

“Assuming that just because _you_ like me, or you want me around, everyone else will. That’s exactly what you used to do back in the day. And it’s – I know you can’t help it, but you can’t really believe that when Arya sees me in this position after everything I’ve done she’s going to take your word and decide that I’m an acceptable presence just because you think so, never mind that she never thought that in the first place. And I don’t want to ruin things for you just – just when you get her back.”

Oh. So – so he wasn’t wrong. For a moment Robb’s throat goes completely dry and he finds himself without an answer. As much as he’d like for Theon to be wrong, he… he probably is right. Hells, no, he most surely is right – Robb can wish it wasn’t the case as much as he wants, but it doesn’t change that it is. And he should just take the suggestion, since Theon made it in the first place, and make everything easier for everyone. Especially since if Theon wasn’t around he could try and try to explain the entire story gradually, but – but it feels wrong. It feels absolutely, completely wrong, especially after what has just gone down the previous day.

“You know,” Robb says when he decides that he’s not going to take up on that offer, “I never liked you for your selflessness.”

“… Sorry?”

“Theon. Don’t play dumb now.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at. That never was my best quality.”

“Exactly. You don’t have to grow too much of it now, especially if the point is punishing yourself.”

“It’s not –”

“It is. And sorry, but you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Robb –”

“No, now you’re going to hear me out a moment. Let’s not get into the fact that my siblings never liked you back in the day – it’s not as if any of them ever tried to get to know you in the first place. Now, let’s see what you’ve been up to in the last month or so. You came this close to dying so that I could live, I don’t have anyone else to thank for helping me keep it together after – after seeing my mother, and you pretty much went and humiliated yourself in front of half of my army and all of my banner men just so that _I_ could have enough reason not to let Roose Bolton get away with what he did, and that’s not even all of it. And now I should go and send you off to Winterfell as if you shamed me? If you think I’m belittling you like that, you can forget it.”

For a moment neither of them says a thing – Theon’s eyes are so wide it would almost be comical, if the situation wasn’t what it is. It takes him a reasonable long time to finally answer him.

“It doesn’t matter. I know that –”

“I don’t care that you know, Theon. That’s nothing we haven’t done already, is it?”

“What?”

“The part where I know that spending time with you isn’t a waste and where you know that I don’t hate you. That already went wrong once. I’m tired, all right? You deserved better before and you deserve better now, and I don’t care that you really think that you don’t. I don’t even care what everyone else thinks, for that matter. At some point they will get it.”

“Robb, you can’t be willing to – to potentially argue with your sister because of me. I’m not –”

“Don’t say that. And – and you know what, I’m perfectly willing.”

“… You don’t mean it like that. She’s your blood.”

“Oh, and so you matter less because you aren’t? Right, I guess that was the root of the bloody problem, but - right. Fine. Not questioning the fact that I’d die for Arya without blinking twice, and I don’t think anyone doubts that, just answer me a few questions. Who was that went to war with me even if they didn’t have to and if they knew no one would have appreciated it?”

“I did, but –”

“Right. Who was with me when I had the news concerning my lord father or after – after I went to the Brotherhood’s camp?”

“Robb, you’re missing the point entirely, it’s not about –”

“It is. Gods, how hard is it to grasp that I _want_ you here? I haven’t done one single thing I actually wanted to do since the blasted moment a crown was put on my head except pardoning you and – and you know, maybe I’m not that selfless, either.”

“You aren’t saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I’m saying that I want you here and if for once I’m going to put what I want first, then everyone else is going to have to deal with it, and if my sister doesn’t see it then I’ll make her see it. Don’t try to pull the noble act when it’s not required.”

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

“No. The last time I relented on this kind of thing was that time when we were in the woods and you saved my brother’s life, and gods help me, I’m not ever going to do that again. Are we clear?”

“… Wait, how did you _relent_ in that occasion?”

That’s when Robb realizes that he had actually never told the entire story.

“Don’t you remember that conversation we had before Bran ran off? The way he was talking to me… well, he wasn’t saying it outright, but he was pretty much asking me why I’d take your opinion into consideration. And I felt like – well, it’s not as if it was the first time I was pointed that out. And I was worried about my father’s situation already, and then that entire mess happened and I was scared out of my mind, and – I don’t know, I took it out on you even if you didn’t do anything to deserve it. But the only reason I took it out on you was that I – I felt like I had to make sure that everyone realized that I knew that we weren’t equals and that I remembered that you weren’t just a ward. I regretted it not an hour later, but I never quite managed to apologize and we all know how _that_ turned out, don’t we?”

Theon gives him a terse nod, then looks down at his own feet. “Can I say that I wasn’t hoping for that outcome?”

“I know that. And I should taken the chance to show everyone why I trusted you instead of doing what I did, and I can’t help feeling bad about it, but if you think that I’m going to fall for it again you’re wrong. I know I have my reasons to trust you, I want you around and I’m tired of people questioning me for it. We’ll see how things go when it actually comes to it, and – just, don’t assume that I’m not going to try and do everything to make this work. Can you do that?”

“I can do that,” Theon replies, his voice so low Robb can barely hear it. “I just don’t want to cause you problems.”

“You’re not going to believe me if I tell you that you might be worth it, are you?”

“Would you be disappointed if I said that I don’t?”

“Of course not,” Robb says, sitting back down on his chair. Theon does the same with the one he had vacated before, pulling it close to his. Theon takes a deep breath and stares straight at him, visibly swallows down twice, and then Robb gasps as his good hand moves and covers his own.

“Fine. Just – know that I appreciate it. Even if it doesn’t work out. And – actually, if it doesn’t –”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Can you close your eyes for a moment?”

By now Robb doesn’t know what to expect, but fine, he’ll go along. He closes his eyes and waits.

First he feels Theon’s shaking left hand on his face, all three fingers of it, and then Theon’s mouth gently covers his own, just a feather touch. Robb doesn’t dare move – he doesn’t know what Theon wants out of it, but he’s pretty sure it’s the first time he initiated it since the Twins, and he’s not going to jeopardize it. For a moment nothing happens, then Theon presses just a bit, and Robb parts his lips without even thinking about it. He’s waiting for more, he is, but after a few other seconds Theon moves away. Robb opens his eyes and sees that Theon’s cheeks are slightly flushed, and he’s looking down at his left hand.

“Not that I’m complaining, but was that for some particular reason?”

“If I never have the chance to do it again, I wanted to know that I could – that I could. You know.”

Robb stares at the door. He can’t hear anyone moving outside.

He drags the chair closer, puts a hand at the back of Theon’s neck and drags him forward, and maybe he slips his tongue a bit inside Theon’s parted lips when he finally gets to kiss him, and he doesn’t move away until he’s positively breathless, and maybe the two of them are gasping for breath when he backs away, but at least surprised is a better look on Theon than dejected.

“You _can_ , and no one is putting a stop to it.”

“Actually – didn’t you say that –”

Robb has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “My wife actually told me that she was glad if you were in her place when she couldn’t be and I’m pretty sure she meant it. If you want to discuss it with her I have no objection whatsoever.”

“… She said that.”

“Yes, Theon, she said that. Now, are you going to stop assuming for the next few hours that I’m going to – get rid of you or something equally stupid?”

“I can try,” he croaks, and Robb doesn’t push it further. He’s glad enough to have half an hour of peace until he has to go back downstairs again.

As if he looks forward to _that_.

And then, since he’s most probably hopeless, he writes down a letter of pardon for Sandor Clegane. He doesn’t sign it, but he just couldn’t help it. He really, really hopes his instincts are right.

\--

Robb doesn’t try to stop Theon when he excuses himself a while later and says he’s going to try and get some more sleep. He doubts he’ll see him around until tomorrow at least, but while he’s not going to change his mind, he gets why he would keep himself scarce and he’s not going to push - the gods know that it’s the last thing anyone needs.

When he gets downstairs to the main hall, he’s told that none of the prisoners has changed their mind about going to the Wall in change of information. While he questions them, they all admit that they had a part in the Red Wedding and refuse to share any details. Robb decides to leave Ryman and Lothar Frey for the next time and after a last warning, he figures that he might as well get on with it. One day he’ll understand why he keeps on giving everyone third chances, even if they did nothing to deserve them.

One hour later he’s down in the yard, looking in disgust at the hanged bodies littering it – it looks like the Brotherhood camp, and the realization makes him want to throw up in his mouth. If only he could afford not to look at the show in front of his eyes, but he can’t do that when he was the one ordering it, can he?

He has the bodies taken down after not even an hour – sunset is approaching and the last thing he needs is his sister to see that, even if from what he gathers she’s already seen enough. When the yard is free again he sends for Jeyne – he’s not going to ask Theon to come downstairs and wait with him, not with their previous conversation in mind, but he can’t possibly spend however time there is between now and Clegane hopefully showing up without someone to talk to.

Jeyne arrives downstairs not long later, the baby sleeping in the crook of her arm.

“I figured I’d bring her along,” she says. “Your uncle told me what was supposed to happen.”

“Sorry for not having come myself, but –”

“I know what was going on this afternoon. Do you think that he was telling the truth?”

“Sandor Clegane? It seemed like it. And – also, I should probably tell you that if he is… well, he had two conditions. One was being pardoned and one was a place in my service. And since I can hardly put him in the regular army I thought that – that if he proves himself trustworthy he could keep an eye on the both of you when I go to King’s Landing. Of course, if you’d rather not, I can find something else –”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jeyne agrees. “The gods know I don’t feel safe now that you’re here, it’s not going to get any better when you leave. If he’s trustworthy and if he’s skilled then I am only too happy for it.”

“Well, he is rather scary, but when I spoke to him this morning he didn’t seem to be playing any games. We can only hope, can’t we?”

“When should he get here?”

“I told him to come after sunset. It shouldn’t be long now. Gods, I really hope this isn’t the umpteenth time I get things wrong.”

“Robb, calm down. You can’t know. And at worst, what could he do? I doubt he would bring some Lannister army over.”

“That he couldn’t,” he has to concede. “I’m just – I don’t even know what to expect. I’m trying to keep my expectations low, but – I’m not sure I can.”

“Why would you? She’s your sister, of course you don’t want to keep them low. Just relax, won’t you? I should be the worried one.”

“You should – oh, gods, don’t.”

“But if it wasn’t for me –”

“Jeyne, I already had this conversation with someone else this morning. Don’t even go there, all right? I don’t regret marrying you and I never will as long as I live, so – don’t go there, all right? It’s not your fault, it’s not mine and it’s not his.”

“… All right. But – wait, you had this conversation with Theon?”

“He thinks I should ship him back to Winterfell and I think he’s entirely wrong about it, but I’m not too sure I convinced him. He’ll come around. I hope.”

Jeyne nods and looks ahead at the gate – the sun is starting to set right now, so yes, it can’t be long. Hells, he can’t help thinking about anything that could go wrong. Clegane might have been lying, and if it’s not the case – he hasn’t seen Arya since she left Winterfell, and things will obviously have changed, she won’t be the same girl who used to run off with Jon and tried to practice with the bow in the yard. Not if she spent all this time in between Harrenhaal and the Brotherhood, never mind that _she was at the Twins_. Where _he_ wasn’t, for that matter.

He needs to calm down. When Jeyne’s hand grasps his he squeezes back gratefully, and meanwhile he knows that there are people coming from behind him, but that’s not going to stop him.

The sky is turning rapidly from violet to dark blue when he finally sees a rider on the horizon line. Not long later, he can distinguish that it’s just one horse, but two people seem to be on it.

_Good gods, he wasn’t lying then._

He moves away from Jeyne, who just nods at him and tells him to go ahead, and he tries not to run until he’s at the gate. He raises a hand so that no one runs ahead – now, he thinks he wants to be on his own. From where he is, it’s obvious that the man on the horse is Clegane.

He rides ahead for a bit, and then he stops the horse forcefully.

“Bugger it,” he says, “just go already, I’m not going to fucking die because I broke my neck falling off my own bloody horse.”

The second person doesn’t even let him finish before jumping down the horse and heading straight for the gate.

The second person is also very fast, and has a sword at their side, and is exactly the height someone his sister’s age would be, and -

They almost crush into him before stopping.

Then they take down the hood covering their face and – _good gods Clegane hadn’t lied_. The girl who left Winterfell with Ned Stark years ago had long hair, was wearing clean clothes, was a whole lot shorter and wasn’t as thin as the one in front of him is, but there’s no doubt of who is in front of him.

“Arya?”

He doesn’t get an answer – rather than that, Arya throws herself straight at him and as he catches her and crushes her to his chest he lets himself think that yes, for once things went the way they should have, and he’s not going to move until he has to. Never mind that the moment his sister breaks into sobs against his shoulder he does the same, clutching her closer, and patience if Clegane is standing a bit farther on the side and can definitely see him crying.

\--

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that – he only knows that at some point Arya moves back just slightly, and he relents his hold on her waist enough so that her feet touch the ground again. She’s looking at him in complete disbelief through widely opened eyes, and there are tear tracks in the dirt on her face.

She’s also still clutching at his arms. “… It’s really you,” she finally blurts.

“Who else?” He raises a hand and wipes the tear tracks from her face with the back of his hand, keeping the other on her waist. Gods, she looks completely floored, and who wouldn’t?

“So, his His Grace satisfied?” Clegane asks from his side.

Arya glares at him for interrupting, probably, but it’s nowhere near as vicious as it could have been. Clegane raises an eyebrow in her direction, looking entirely not impressed with it. “Don’t do that, you. I promised you I’d bring you to him, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Arya grudgingly admits.

“Go to the gate,” Robb says, “we’ll get there in a bit. Actually, no, wait a moment.” He reaches down into a pocket in his breeches, then hands Clegane a sealed sheet of paper that he had gotten ready before just in case. “Show this to my uncle – it says you upheld your end of the bargain. You’ll be given food and a room or whatever else you ask for – we can worry about the rest in the morning, if you’re amenable.”

“I can wait a day, Stark.” Clegane jumps off his horse, takes Robb’s parchment and leaves for the gate, and Robb lets him go.

“What did he ask?” Arya whispers when he’s out of hearing reach.

“He wants a pardon and a place in my service, which as far as I was concerned were perfectly acceptable terms. Is there something I should know that you do?”

For a moment she seems to think about it, then she takes a deep breath and shakes her head half-reluctantly. “I wish there was. I had sworn that I’d kill him myself, but – he did say that he’d bring me to you, and he did. Eventually. And that’s what he said he would ask of you long before – before the Twins.” She shudders visibly, and Robb tries not to think about how nonchalant she had sounded when saying _I had sworn that I’d kill him myself_. “Maybe I was wrong about him.”

She doesn’t add anything else for a moment, then visibly swallows. “It’s – Mother is dead, isn’t she?”

Robb nods, figuring that lying would be useless. He’s not going to tell her the entire story until later, though. Arya nods, her bottom lip slightly quivering. “So –”

“So she’s dead, but no one else is.”

“What? But – weren’t Bran and Rickon –”

“No,” Robb says. “Well, it’s – it’s complicated, I suppose. Sansa disappeared after Joffrey’s wedding – I have sent people to look for her. Hopefully she’s alive and well. Jon is still at the Wall. Rickon is in White Arbor.”

“In _White Harbor_?”

“Theon never killed them. I will tell you in details later, but he’s safe, or so Lord Manderly tells me. Bran – Bran is somewhere beyond the Wall, but as far as I know he was alive not long ago. Jon has people looking for him, too.”

“Jon _has people_ looking out for Bran? How -“

“He’s the Lord Commander now. I guess that piece of news didn’t reach you yet, did it?”

Arya shakes her head, and she looks at least a bit proud of Jon at the thought, and it’s definitely a better look on her.

“Right. Let’s just go inside. I can tell you the rest over dinner. And you can meet your niece.”

“I can meet who?”

“I have a daughter,” Robb answers, and Arya shakes her head in disbelief.

“You – you – but the last time I saw you –“

“The last time you saw me I was a green boy and I wasn’t certainly married.”

“You. Married. Oh gods,” she groans, “this is so strange.” She’s also kind of smiling at it, though, and Robb lets himself hope that now that finally, finally something good has happened without him having to work hard for it or fucking it up along the way, it might be a sign that the tide has turned, as far as he’s concerned.

\--

Jeyne had nothing to worry about, it turns out – the introduction is perfectly courteous, and Arya keeps on looking at her niece as if she has no clue of what she should think about it, but then again she always was like that, so Robb isn’t _that_ worried. Arya asks for a bath before dinner, though, and Robb can see why – she’s filthy. When she finally reaches him in the main hall, with a table set just for two people, she’s wearing clean clothes that most probably belonged to his uncle Edmure years ago, but she also looks a lot less worn-out now that she has bathed and shed her ruined garments.

Before closing the door, Robb tells the guard to go send for Gendry and please let him wait a bit outside when he gets here, he’ll call when he’s needed. After, he eats a plate of stew and meanwhile Arya cleans off two portions – understandable. Gods, she is really too thin.

He doesn’t say a word until they touch the tray of lemon cakes left on the table.

As she reaches for one, he clears his throat and tells her everything that’s happened to him from the last time they saw each other until now. He also tells her what he knows of their siblings’ whereabouts, and finally he tells her about their mother, waiting until she’s done eating for that part. He’s not sure that he likes the way she takes in the news – her back gets straighter and she stares at him with a blank face that is completely at contrast with the way she had looked when he saw her at the gates.

By the time he’s done she just gives him a curt nod and reaches for another lemoncake that she eats without enthusiasm.

“When is the funeral?” She finally asks after she’s done eating.

“Hopefully after I’m done with the – the wedding-related trials. I want them to be over before I get on with it.”

“And you’re going to King’s Landing after.” She doesn’t say it, but he hears it nonetheless. _And you’re leaving, again_.

“I hardly can refuse Stannis,” he concedes. “But I doubt he’s going to strike until he’s entirely sure it’s going to end well. It’s not going to be _that_ soon.”

She gives him another curt nod and Robb is almost, almost tempted to call in Gendry, who must have gotten here by now, and avoid a certain discussion altogether, but he doesn’t want to lie and he doesn’t want Arya to find out on her own. Sure, he _knows_ that if she finds out about Theon she might hate him for it, and he’s nowhere near ready to see if it might be the case, but he owes the two of them better than postponing the discussion.

He’s about to clear his throat when the question arrives.

“Fine. I understand. But – how did you know about Bran and Rickon?”

_Here it comes_. “Right. Arya, can you promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“Try not to hate the answer to it until I’ve said everything.”

“Why would I hate it?”

“You might. Very well. I know because – because Theon told me.”

“ _He_ told you?”

“When I was up North trying to secure it, we assaulted the Dreadfort. The Boltons had taken him prisoner. And we found him there.”

“All right. So?”

“So – so I asked him why did he burn down Winterfell and killed our brothers. He said he didn’t do either.”

“And you _believed_ him?”

“Well, about Bran and Rickon, I didn’t have to. I had a confirmation of that not that long later. About Winterfell… he said it was Bolton’s bastard doing it. It’s – he wasn’t lying.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s – complicated as well. But while talking with some of the few other survivors that we found in the Dreadfort, they confirmed it, too. Not that I directly asked just to make sure, but – he wasn’t lying. He took the castle and pretended to have Bran and Rickon killed when at some point they escaped, but they were two commoners.”

“Why is it complicated, though?”

Robb takes another deep breath. “I can’t really explain it. You should see him.”

“… I should - is he alive?”

Ah, damn it. He should have eased into it.

“He is.”

“Why? Why would you spare his life?”

“He was a lot more useful alive. I needed his sister’s fleet and having him alive made her cooperate a lot easier.”

“Right, but where is he now? At Winterfell?”

“No.” Gods, this is harder than he had thought it would be. “He’s here. And before you ask, no, he’s not in the dungeons.”

“He’s not?”

“That’s why I told you to try and not hate this conversation until it’s done.”

“He _took Winterfell_!”

And doesn’t he know that. She’s looking at him as if she can’t recognize him, and good gods how does he say that he actually pardoned Theon at this point?

“He did, and he also did try to convince his father to ally with me and only god scorn in return, but that’s not the point.”

“Then _what_ it is, Robb? You can’t tell me that it doesn’t matter!”

“It does, but - gods, Arya, fine, maybe I should have killed him, but if I had, I wouldn’t even be talking to you right now.”

“And why’s that?”

“Gods, because I’d be dead myself!”

Arya goes completely pale at that, and gods this conversation was so not supposed to go like this, and before she can say anything he reaches out and wraps his fingers around her wrist.

“When I went back to take the Twins, he had come along. So I could keep an eye on him.” Fine, he’s not telling the entire truth here, but he can hardly say that he already had been ready to let the whole part where Theon took Winterfell go as far as he was concerned. “When all was done I was getting ready to leave, and I had no clue that Ryman Frey was aiming an arrow at me with the help of his lovely brothers surrounding him. He – Theon saw it, he tried to warn me, I didn’t understand what he meant and he jumped in front of it. So yes, if it hadn’t been for him I’d most probably be dead now, and – that’s not everything.”

“What else?”

“Yesterday I tried Roose Bolton. It turns out he was the one who - who killed Mother. But he and everyone supposed to testify apparently agreed on a story that was supposed to earn him a pass to the Wall. Theon had heard otherwise while in the Dreadfort and if he hadn’t gone and said it now Lord Bolton would be on his merry way to the Wall, and he was the last gift I had in mind to send Jon, for that matter. That’s not even all, but – he’s sorry about it, and he wants to make up for it, and - and I think he more than earned it.”

“Robb, are you hearing yourself? I mean – fine, I guess that if he did _that_ you wouldn’t kill him, but it’s not like it means you should forgive him!”

Right. Here it goes.

“I already did.”

He tightens his grip on his sister’s wrist as he feels her trying to yank it out from under her hand. And of course she’d look utterly betrayed.

“ _How_ – how could you? He _betrayed us_!”

That’s not the way he had thought it would go. It really wasn’t. _How easy would it be to just do what Theon himself had suggested_. But no, he’s going to stand his ground and patience if it means consequences.

“Arya, he betrayed _me_.”

“How - he took our home.”

“He took it because it was _mine_. Arya, honestly, what obligations he had towards you or our parents or anyone else in the North? None.”

“You aren’t saying that it’s not his fault.”

“No, I’m saying he did something incredibly stupid but because of me. Listen, it’s a story that you should hear from him because I can hardly explain in his place without sounding ridiculous, but the point is that _I_ was the only one he had obligations to, and don’t tell me that no one thought that I was an idiot for trusting him.”

“ _Everyone_ did, and with good reason I’d –”

“Such good reason that the moment he didn’t have any obligations to his family and he could choose whether to go back to Pyke or stay here or do anything else he’d go and bend the knee to me? I don’t think so.”

“He – he did what?”

“Bend the knee. Which he had never done before he went back home the first time. So maybe since it was partially my fault that things went awry, I should be the one deciding if he earned another chance. Never mind that he paid for the rest enough.”

“And how has he?”

“He spent at least half a year at the Dreadfort with Bolton’s bastard son flaying every piece of skin he had on him, I could hardly do worse than that even if I put any effort in it.”

Arya blanches at that, and doesn’t try to move away, but she still doesn’t look wholly convinced. Robb figures that it’s the most he’s going to get out of this conversation. And maybe he should just call Gendry in already, but all in good time. He still has the last thing to say, and from now on – well, he’ll have to see how it goes.

“I’ll ask him to talk to you about it tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to hear -“

“Arya, you really should. Just – do me this favor, all right? If you still think that I’m the most foolish person on this earth who ever donned a crown after, I suppose I can do nothing to convince you otherwise, but however it goes, I’m not changing my mind on this particular stance.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not. And it’s not because of obligations or anything. It’s because - it’s because I want to, all right? When I ran into him at the Dreadfort it was just me and my army. Jeyne was here, I knew the pregnancy wasn’t proceeding well, and I’ll admit it, I was so desperate for – for _home_ that maybe it was a reason why I couldn’t bring myself to kill him in the first place. He was still better than – than no one from back when we were all together. But he was my friend first, and I know I hadn’t misjudged him back then, and – forgive me if maybe I wanted my friend back, especially considering all the evidence pointing to the fact that he never wanted to betray me. Is that really so – so unreasonable?”

Arya stares at him for a long, long moment. Then she shakes her head twice. “I suppose not.”

“Will you talk to him?”

“I will, but just because you sound so sure about him. I’m not.”

“I don’t ask you to be. All right. Now that it’s out - that was all I had to say. And you’re probably dead tired so I won’t ask you to tell me what happened to you right now – it can wait. I have just one thing left to say now.”

“What?”

“Guard, you can let him in.”

“You can let who – oh.”

Robb can’t help snorting slightly as he stands up and looks at the scene in front of him – Arya is staring at Gendry as if she can’t believe he’s actually there and he’s looking at her as if that was the last thing he had expected to see when he was summoned. It’s – unquestionably endearing.

“Well,” he says, breaking the silence, “I suppose you two might have a lot to talk about. Arya, the guard will show you to your room when you’re done.”

She sends a grateful nod his way, then she turns back to Gendry. “You – how are you _here_?” She’s almost shouting in his face as she walks up to him.

“I – when he ran into us – the Brotherhood, I mean – I might have asked if I could’ve come with. So, I’m still the stupid one here?”

She looks like someone who doesn’t know if she should punch him or hug him.

It ends with her throwing her arms around his neck, and Robb sighs and leaves the room - he doubts they even paid attention, as it should be anyway. He takes a deep breath and walks out, tells the guard to close the door and leave them alone until Arya calls, and then he gets until the end of the hallway while keeping a straight face. Then he feels as if someone had just wrapped a fist around his heart and _squeezed_ hard, and – and he needs to talk to someone. He takes a deep breath and makes quick calculations – he can be in his quarters shortly enough. He’s not heading for Theon’s room because he doesn’t need any of this, and by now Jeyne will probably be asleep, so if he manages to keep himself quiet maybe he’ll be able to get there and curl in bed without waking anyone else up.

It’s a plan, he tells himself as he walks straight for his room.

He’s almost there, and he’s about to just walk past Theon’s room without blinking twice, when he hears voices coming from within again. And one is Jeyne’s.

How is it the second time that he finds himself in this situation, lately? He stops for a moment outside the door.

“He doesn’t think it’s your fault,” Jeyne says.

“I know he doesn’t,” Theon answers. “That doesn’t mean he should - well. Do what he’s doing right now. I don’t – I’d be fine knowing that he doesn’t blame me, he doesn’t need to try and make everyone else agree with it.”

“Why, would you expect any different?”

“I don’t want him to have – even more problems on his plate because of me, though.”

Robb can’t listen to this anymore, and hells, _this_ is the reason why he’s so set on making everyone else agree with it.

But other than that, maybe he should just go to his room and try to go to sleep without possibly breaking down crying against his pillow.

Maybe.

He’s not sure that he wants that, though. So he knocks and walks in without waiting for an answer – as last time, Jeyne is on the armchair, Theon is on the bed, and the moment he sees Robb he stands up – and then he winces.

Right. He’s lacking toes.

Robb doesn’t know if he’s angry or just tired.

“It didn’t go well,” Theon says after a moment.

“Better than I thought,” Robb manages. He still sounds like he’s keeping it together. Good.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that she’s willing to hear your side of things tomorrow, but I think she’s pretty angry with me right now.”

“Let me guess, it was because of me,” Theon sighs a moment later. “Robb, really, I can go to Winterfell or –“

“You’re not going anywhere and that’s final.” Now he thinks he’s sounding halfway hysterical – thank the gods no one other than Jeyne and Theon is hearing him. “She’s angry with me. Fine. Hopefully she’ll get over it. At some point she’ll have to. Meanwhile – well, good thing her friend was here.”

He leans against the table in Theon’s room. Theon and Jeyne share a look, then she moves next to him and grabs his arm – good, because maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to lose his footing.

“Robb, damn you, you shouldn’t – you shouldn’t argue with your _sister_ just because of me, all right? Not when you haven’t seen her in this long, and not when –”

“Theon, don’t tell me that I shouldn’t have to give up on this for that matter, because isn’t it what I’ve done for – for ten damned years?”

“You haven’t –”

“Don’t say that I haven’t. I might have not given up on being your friend, fine, but I gave up on everyone else getting it, I didn’t do anything to make them see why and if you picked your family over me I can hardly fault you since I certainly paid you the same favor more than once. I’m not doing it now. I was tired of it then and I’m tired of it now. All right?”

“All – all right, but you really should sit down.”

“I shouldn’t –”

“Robb, he’s right, you can barely stand.”

He lets Jeyne drag him towards the bed – he ends up sitting in between the two of them, and for a moment he thinks he can keep it together. It can’t be too hard. He breathes in and out and he knows that his shoulders are shaking, but it’s not that much, is it?

“Robb?” Jeyne sounds worried. “Robb, it can’t have gone as well as you said, not when –”

“I’m just tired,” he says a moment later, and his own mouth tastes bitter, so it means that he’s probably crying, isn’t that marvelous, and he has no clue of how he should even stop. “I’m tired. I can’t – I’m just tired of having to justify myself at every turn. Every other bloody king in this realm just does whatever the hell they want or see fit and no one dares say anything, but the gods forbid that I take one selfish decision once in a while and I have to fight tooth and nail for it. And it’s not like I just asked someone to be my Hand and take care of things, did I? No, I give everything up to win this stupid war and I still have to feel guilty because of something I damn well shouldn’t feel guilty about?”

“I can’t say that I told you so, can I?” Theon says quietly a moment later, his maimed hand lightly grasping Robb’s shoulder.

“… Really?” Jeyne asks then. “ _Really_?”

“What can I say, I hear he used to keep me around also for the questionable jokes,” Theon blurts a moment later, and so maybe now he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry, except that there are still fresh tears all over his face, so maybe it’s the second.

Or maybe he should just settle for both.

“That was your finest quality,” Robb sobs a moment later, figuring that he should just stop to try and keep it in. “It’s nice to see it’s still hidden somewhere. And – and you told me so, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“She’ll come around,” Jeyne interrupts, and Robb lets his head fall against her shoulder as she leans down on the bed. He can barely see anything – everything is blurry.

“Maybe, and right now she thinks I completely lost my wits.”

“She realized it some five years too late then,” Theon sighs, and then Robb feels an arm tentatively wrapping around his waist, he feels a bony chest pressing against his back and he just cries harder.

“What are you two even doing?”

“What does it look like?” Theon says from behind him. “Just let it go, you idiot. You obviously need to.”

And that seems like entirely sound advice, and so maybe he weeps his eyes out against Jeyne’s shawl, and maybe it becomes harder after the hand around his waist reaches out and grabs his own and at the same time Jeyne’s fingers start running through his hair, but he’s entirely too tired to even think about it too much.

He doesn’t know how much time he wastes like that, but when he finally feels like he has some semblance on control of himself, his head hurts and his eyes sting.

“Hells. That was embarrassing, wasn’t it?”

“You needed it,” Jeyne answers, sounding maybe slightly amused.

“And I’m pretty sure it’s nowhere near as embarrassing as what I would define embarrassing,” Theon says from behind him. “Your secret is safe with us, Stark. If you want to just sleep here I doubt no one is going to object.”

“Could I? I just – I really don’t want to get up.”

“What did I just say?”

Robb puts some halfway effort in kicking off his boots –when he’s done that, he has no strength for anything else, and so he closes his eyes, concentrates on the warmth surrounding him, and – and he knows that the two people around him are his two selfish decisions, and as he falls asleep he just knows that he can’t regret any of them, regardless of how he should feel about it.

It’s a surprisingly liberating thought.


	2. Chapter 2

“I _did_ tell him, though,” Theon says after he’s sure that Robb isn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

Jeyne merely raises an eyebrow at him, moving so that she’s leaning on her elbow. “That it was going to cause problems? I suppose he knew that already.”

“Still, the last thing I want is being the reason he has to feel like that,” he admits, feeling completely inadequate – he can’t have this conversation with Robb’s wife while he’s in this position, on top of everything.

“I think he had taken that into account, too. And he’s not going to change his mind.”

“I wish he would. It would be easier for everyone involved.”

“Because _he_ likes taking the easy way out? I doubt it.”

At that, he has to shrug in agreement – nothing to add on this specific matter.

Then he figures that since the two of them are here and Robb isn’t obviously hearing them, maybe he should gather his guts and asked the question.

“My lady?”

“Yes?”

“There’s – there’s something he told me recently. Concerning you.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about, but by all means, ask.”

“He – uhm – said that you weren’t adverse to – to me _being with him_ when you couldn’t? He didn’t exactly clarify, and I’m not sure that I am quite grasping it?”

She looks almost as if she’s going to laugh at that, but at least it’s not an unkind look.

“Do you remember what I told you before you both left for the Twins?”

Theon gives her a nod – yes, he does, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“It seems to me like you did take that advice to heart, didn’t you?”

“I tried?”

“Seems to me like you did more than try. So - that’s exactly what I meant.”

“But -“

“It’s the same thing. I know I won’t always be able to be with him when I wish to. And I know you care about him the same way I do.”

Theon feels the blood run away from his face – he’s pretty sure he’s just gone completely pale. “That’s not –”

“I never said it was a bad thing.”

“… Sorry?”

“It’s not. I want him to be happy. Regardless of what everyone else thinks, he is when he’s with you, the same as he is with me, and do you honestly think I could ever hate you when if it wasn’t for you he’d probably be dead?”

“I don’t see that many other people not hating me regardless of it.”

“And do you think I don’t know how it feels when everyone looks at you as if you’ve been the biggest mistake he ever made? I am quite sure that if you asked around, not many would think that when he married me he did the right thing.”

She has a more than valid point, Theon figures – if there’s anyone in this castle who could understand how it feels, it’s her. If only she sounded angry or resigned or sad, though, it would somehow make sense. But she isn’t. Not at all.

“So, I think that you did, in fact, quite grasp it.”

“I – I did?”

“You did.”

“You can’t – you can’t possibly think that _I_ should –”

“I think that as far as _I_ am concerned, I think you should keep on doing exactly what you’re doing, and as far as _he_ ’s concerned I certainly won’t blame him for caring about you. While as far as _you_ are concerned, I’m hardly going to begrudge you if you try and find some happiness when you can – the gods know you look like you earned it.”

And she sounds completely earnest as she says it. He sits up a bit and maybe he runs the back of his hand over his eyes - he’s not quite sure that he can’t feel them burning and the last thing he needs is starting to cry in front of her, not as if she’d mind. But still, he’d really rather not.

“Thank you,” he says a moment later, not that he had found anything more adequate.

“You’re quite welcome. And with this, I think I should go.”

“Wait, just wake him up and –”

“No, he’s exhausted and I do trust the maid I left with my daughter, but – I’d rather be there. Just in case. I don’t mind if he stays the night.”

“… Very well. Good – goodnight then.”

She smiles and stands up, then closes softly the door behind her, leaving him on the bed with his arm around Robb’s waist and gods if this isn’t all kinds of strange, but he’s not going to complain about it. He’s still nowhere near sure that he’s heard Jeyne right before, but if he has he doesn’t even want to think about all the implications of it, and so he ends up moving so that he’s in front of Robb rather than at his back, and he takes in the dark bags under Robb’s eyes and the few lines along his forehead that shouldn’t belong there, not when Robb isn’t even twenty yet, and he can’t help thinking that Robb should be with his sister, not with _him_.

What is done is done, though, and so he moves closer, his hands tentatively going to Robb’s waist, and he tries to follow the example and go to sleep as well – not that it’ll last long, but he’ll take what he can.

\--

He wakes all of a sudden as the sky starts turning pink on the horizon – at least it wasn’t the horrifying kind of nightmare, or maybe he’s just getting adjusted to it. Robb is still sleeping, though, and he doesn’t look much rested at all. Theon maybe, just maybe wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t, even if maybe he _could_ , and the idea is terrifying enough in itself that he can’t bring himself to move at all.

He doesn’t know how long he lies down there looking at Robb, but when dawn has long passed Robb finally wakes up, and Theon can’t help taking in a short breath, not having a clue of what’s going to happen. Surely, Robb doesn’t seem disappointed that he found himself _here_ of all places. He opens and closes his eyes again a couple of times and then he forces himself to sit up - he’s obviously still dead tired.

“Gods, I really – I really made a fool of myself yesterday, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t,” Theon replies quickly. “Gods knew you looked devastated. It’s only understandable, you know.”

“Maybe, but – I didn’t really want anyone to see that.”

“Why, because you aren’t allowed to reach a breaking point? And it was me and your lady wife, hardly your bannermen. Your secret is safe.”

“At least that. I still feel horrible, though.”

“You know, it’s not too late. I can leave and you can tell your sister you thought about it again and realized the error of your ways, I won’t take it personally.”

“Didn’t I tell you already to stop trying to be something that never was quite _you_? You don’t want to leave, or do you?”

“I don’t, of course, but –”

“Then you’re staying.”

“Robb, gods, I already said, she’s your family –”

“And you’re not?”

… _That_ was the last thing Theon had expected. He swallows, not quite remembering what he was going to say all over again, and he tries to keep himself together – gods know that Robb doesn’t need him to lose it.

“It’s not the same thing. I’m not – you don’t have to –”

“Do you remember what you told me when – when I arrived at the Dreadfort? About your father?”

“That I felt like I had to side with him because he was my blood? At least I think I did say that.”

“Did he deserve it?”

“Seven hells, no. And what does it have to do with everything else?”

“If you could feel like you sided with him even if he didn’t deserve it, can I have the luxury of deciding that _I_ want you around regardless of what you think you deserve or everyone else thinks on that matter? You had wronged _me_ , and it should be my bloody decision.”

“It didn’t just affect your life, though.”

“No, but it’s still my decision. Come on, if Rhaegar Targaryen could knight bloody Gregor Clegane I’m pretty sure that I can do what I want in regards to this situation. And – right. I should probably go downstairs, fetch my sister and see if there’s been any change in her stance.”

“And then you’re coming up here?”

“She’s not going to think that you had good enough reasons to do what you did if she hears it from me.”

Which is probably an entire valid point, considering that Robb would sound like someone trying to justify him for having harmed his entire family, which is ridiculous in the first place.

“Fine. I – uhm. Can you come back… can you give me enough time to wash and change? It’s not going to change much, but –”

“That’s fine. I will take the necessary time. And – however it goes, you’re not going anywhere. Just keep that in mind.”

Robb stands up and straightens out his clothes, heading for the door.

Then Theon figures that he should at least know something.

“Robb?”

“Yes?”

“However it goes, just - thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I have. I’m quite sure that no one else ever spent this much effort in – well. Seeing my side of things, I suppose.”

That wasn’t all of it, but Robb smiles a bit and shakes his head as he opens the door.

“Didn’t I say already that you’re worth it?”

Then he leaves before Theon can answer him.

He wishes he had time to waste on thinking that answer through, but he doesn’t.

He proceeds to ask for a bath to be brought upstairs. He washes as thoroughly as he can, then he makes sure to put on the cleanest garb he has in the room – it’s still nondescript gray clothes and it’s definitely nothing special, but he’s not going to put on anything with a Stark sigil on if he can help it. When he’s done and he glances at himself in the mirror, he doesn’t think that it made that much of a difference – there isn’t an inch of dirt under his nails, but he’s still too thin, the clothes are still too large, his hair is still gray and his left hand is still maimed. What a sight. He makes sure that no other skin is visible, then he goes back to the armchair and sits down. He can’t possibly eat anything – his stomach feels completely closed, and gods but he doesn’t want to ruin this for Robb more than he already has, and what if he ends up doing that anyway?

Thankfully he doesn’t have that long to ponder the question – there’s a knock on the door shortly after he sits, and before he can say _come in_ , the door opens unceremoniously, hitting the wall with a bang.

Well, Arya did grow up in the last few years, he thinks as he automatically moves to stand up, and that’s when two things happen at the same time. First, he can’t help keeping in a moan of pain because _of course_ he forgot again that standing up at once when your feet are the way his own are, it hurts. Second, Arya was barging inside the room but she stops abruptly, taking a good look at him.

Then she turns to Robb, who has come in by now and is standing at her left.

“That’s not _him_ ,” she says without preambles.

“You don’t know how much I wish you were right,” Theon replies before Robb can. “But sadly for the both of us, I doubt your brother is much up for japing right now.”

Arya turns back to look at him, taking in his appearance all over again, and she shakes her head in disbelief - she must have recognized the voice, though.

For a long moment no one says anything.

Then. “How about we all sit down? And I did tell you that six months with Ramsay Snow were worse than I could have ever come up with.” Robb sounds tired all over again, of course he would, and Arya gives him a curt nod before grabbing one of the free chairs and sitting down in front of him. She’s openly glaring, and Theon doesn’t know how he manages to glare back, but it takes entirely too much effort.

“He’s sure that he has _good enough reasons_ to want you here,” she finally says, and good because he was this close to break down and look at his hands instead of her.

“And you’re sure that he’s not being fair in his judgment, aren’t you? Don’t ask me how I’d know, I’m pretty sure I could figure that out on my own. Go ahead and ask me whatever you wish.”

“Fine. So, why did you betray us?”

Theon figures that pointing out that he only betrayed Robb won’t help him, so he doesn’t even think about mentioning it directly.

“Did your father ever tell you why I was there in Winterfell?”

“Of course he did. He said you were his ward.”

“I was his hostage, not his ward. He only put it like that out – out of kindness, maybe, and he probably never told you because he figured you didn’t need to know, but I never was a _ward_. My family lost the rebellion when I was nine, and the only reason I ever came to Winterfell was that if my father stepped out of line, _yours_ would have cut my head the moment the raven reached him. And I spent ten years worrying about it, but that’s not what you want to know. Very well. When your brother sent me back to Pyke, I had all the intentions to honor our deal. And I thought that my father would have welcomed me with opened arms, foolish notion that was, and I thought he would see that an alliance was the most sensible thing to do. He proceeded to burn Robb’s letter and inform me that he could never trust me since as far as he was concerned I was just trying to make Robb’s interests. As if spending ten years in the North was my decision.”

“So you could have gone back to him,” Arya says, nodding towards Robb.

“If I had known what was going to transpire of course I would have, but – my choice was my family, who seemed to hate me, and him, who was… just about the only person in his army who actually wanted me there. Or the only person in his family, for that matter.”

Arya’s mouth straightens into a thin line, but she doesn’t deny it.

“So I could have stayed with – with my family and given them a reason to trust me and maybe inherit what I thought I would have for years, or I could have gone back to your brother disinheriting myself in the process, without a fleet and – without anything really, since it’s not as if they had shared plans with _me_. I picked them because it seemed like the least painful option, and then I was tasked with something menial, so it was obvious that my father still didn’t trust me.”

“And so you went and took Winterfell for _that_?”

“I never said it wasn’t foolish. I thought it would show him that I wasn’t at Robb’s beck and call, and for that matter I didn’t wish ill on your brothers, and I did try to hold it as best as I could, and I failed. I know that. I regret it ever single moment of every single day, and I know I was wrong. And anyway it all went to the seven hells thanks to Ramsay Snow, who was the one who actually suggested to have the two children that weren’t your brothers killed and who carried it out, who burned down the castle and who killed your men. After that – well, my currently charming appearance is all thanks to him. Make of that what you will.”

When Arya says nothing and Robb adds nothing, he takes a deep breath and figures that he should just finish his speech for everyone’s sake. “He can confirm you that after he found me in the dungeons I did tell him that I only would have deserved it, if he took my head. Then I still don’t know what possessed him not to, but he didn’t, and maybe you won’t believe me, but – when I said that I did want that alliance for the both of us, I meant it. The way I had envisioned it, my father would have agreed, we would have won the war together, we would have been allies and I – and I would have stopped being your lord father’s hostage and maybe we’d have been equals. I obviously did not get it right the first time. But since he saw fit to give me another occasion, forgive me if I just want to take it.”

“And how do I know you’re not planning on doing it all over again at some point?”

Theon wants to laugh. He doesn’t. “If I had wanted to leave, I could have done it not long ago. And I didn’t. I’ve been back to Pyke in one occasion since then and it only made me realize for sure that it’s not my place. You were closer to _Jon Snow_ than I’ll ever be with my sister, and nothing is going to change it even if she means well. My father is dead, my mother will be soon and the rest of my family that isn’t my sister probably would loathe the sight of me. For whom would I betray him or you when he’s the only reason I’m still here in the first place?”

“Never mind that the reverse is valid,” Robb mutters from the back of the room, but Theon ignores him – that’s not the point.

“I had a reason, before. A terrible reason, but still one. Right now? I have none. And I wouldn’t even want to. I will never have what I wanted before I went back home the first time, but is it so bad that I might want what I can have of it? I know you think I don’t deserve it, and I don’t think I do either, for that matter, but I’m willing to spend my entire life proving that I want to make up for it.”

“You already did,” Robb sighs again, and he’s thoroughly ignored all over again.

“That’s - that’s it. Unless you have more to ask, of course.”

It takes all his force of will not to look down as he meets Arya’s eyes again - she doesn’t have the face of a twelve-year old now. It’s so blank he almost feels scared, but he can’t afford to look down. He’s not going to look as if he’s even more ashamed than he actually is.

Finally she gives one tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

“I’m still not sure I’m wrong about you,” she says, “but I was wrong about the Hound. I guess I can see for myself. For now.”

“Very well. I shall try not to disappoint you.”

“Good.” She glares at him again, then tells Robb something and walk out of the room in a matter of seconds.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Theon finally says when he’s sure they’re alone.

Robb lets out a small laugh and closes the door before sitting down on the bed. “You should thank my uncle.”

“Your – wait, the Blackfish?”

“He cornered her this morning and I’m quite sure he told her that if she doesn’t trust my judgment she should trust his, and that there’s no way you might be trying to backstab anyone. I guess it didn’t hurt.”

Hells, now this is something he wasn’t expecting.

“I’m sorry it had to go like this in the first place, though.”

“I know that, and I’m not going back on it.”

Theon was about to answer that, he was, but then his stomach growls quite loudly and he looks up guiltily at Robb.

“Let me guess, you didn’t eat anything.”

“I was too nervous.”

“You’re lucky that since I was nervous, too, I didn’t have anything to eat either.”

“So you aren’t going to nag at me for it?”

“No, but I’m going to kindly ask you to join me downstairs and break your fast with me.”

For a moment, Theon is sure he heard wrong. “You don’t – I can’t possibly –”

“No one’s in the main hall right now, but if it suits you better I can eat while standing up in the kitchens.”

“Robb –”

“I’m not ashamed of being seen with you, you know.”

He thinks he wants to cry. He just breathes in instead. “All right. But I’d rather have the kitchens.”

“Good.”

Clearly, no one wants to hear it when Robb says he’s more than willing to stand up while eating so they don’t disturb too much and a maid clears a small table in the corner for the two of them, then proceeds to cover it with what he figures are leftovers of the morning. If she’s surprised that he’s there, too, she doesn’t show it. Theon reaches out and starts nibbling on a honey cake while Robb helps himself to a few boiled eggs and a bowl of porridge. When he realizes that Theon isn’t going to reach for anything other than the honey cake he grabs his plate, puts a couple of the remaining eggs, some bacon, a loaf of bread and a jar of honey on it and pushes it in front of him.

“Robb, you _do_ know that’s about how much I can stomach in an entire day?”

“I do, and during the trial I could still see your bones. Just give it a try and stop when you’re full, won’t you?”

Theon doesn’t even try to contradict him and grabs a knife so that he can put the honey on the bread - at least his hand isn’t shaking as he closes his fingers around the handle.

In the end, he eats all of that, one egg and half of the bacon, and just because he really can’t stomach any more. Robb obviously notices it because he doesn’t push for more, and digs into his porridge instead.

Theon just looks at him – they’re just under a window, and there’s sunlight coming directly. Robb’s hair looks such a bright red, and he looks a bit less tired as he eats, and since he’s not wearing any armor or any crown it would be so easy to pretend that they’re still at Winterfell and nothing of import has happened, but he’s hardly going to get lost in that kind of fantasy. It’s nice, though. No one else is around, the maids are leaving them alone and for a moment he just lets himself enjoy the moment, figuring that there won’t be that many other chances to do it in the near future.

They’re left alone until Robb pushes away his empty porridge bowl, and then a maid comes in and says that His Grace is wanted outside for a moment. Robb walks away, saying he’ll be back shortly, and Theon ends up staring down at his left hand – why did he forget the gloves upstairs? The scars where his fingers should have been look even more hideous with sunlight pouring over them, and shoving it down behind his cloak isn’t going to help with the situation. They really do make a mismatched couple, don’t they? At least, back in Winterfell, he did have the looks to match Robb’s. Now? Now not so much.

He’s relieved when Robb is back just then – he really can’t afford to get lost in his thoughts right now.

“Well, it does seem like my sister is maybe a bit embarrassed of asking if she may spend the day out. At the blacksmith’s.”

“Wait, isn’t that where –”

“That’s where Gendry Waters currently resides, yes.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I was entirely fine with it, of course. And I am. Gods, even if I wasn’t I’d hardly begrudge her from doing something that makes her happy, all things considered. It was just the second time since yesterday when she actually did look her age instead of fifteen years older than she really is, I’m not going to refuse her. Right. I should go back upstairs to settle things with Sandor Clegane – at least I don’t have to see anyone named Frey until tomorrow.”

Right, because the trial was obviously postponed in light of what just happened.

“Are you coming?”

“Sorry?”

“You can come upstairs with me, take some rest while I discuss with Clegane and then if you want – you still should eat something at lunch and I’m quite sure that Jeyne would quite like to have some company other than me. And then I most likely will check on my sister and hopefully my not-quite fears will be confirmed. Or you could do whatever you want, really, but I figured you might like this option.”

“I do,” he replies, maybe a bit too quickly, but it doesn’t seem to matter. “I think I like it quite much.”

“Good then.”

Robb holds out his hand and he’s on Theon’s left side, and Theon almost shudders when he reaches out with his own, but then Robb gently tugs him upwards and for a moment he doesn’t feel his two missing fingers at all.


	3. Chapter 3

When Robb walks back into the solar, Clegane is there already, and while a bath, clean clothes and a proper bed didn’t do wonders and don’t make him look any less weary or tired, he’s still a nicer sight than he was on the previous day.

“Ser –”, Robb starts, but Clegane shakes his head.

“I’m not one and I never was one.”

“Would you like to be?”

Well, Robb hadn’t thought he’d ask that, and Clegane’s eyes go wide the moment Robb says it, but then again it only would make sense if he offered, wouldn’t it?

“Bloody – _what_?”

“You paid my family a great service and you don’t know how grateful I am for that. It costs me nothing to knight you, if you so wish.”

“My thanks, but I’ve done without that title until now and I can do without it for the moment.”

“As you prefer.” Robb sits behind his desk and fishes out of the pile of papers he has on his left the one he had already prepared yesterday. He hands it over to Clegane.

“That’s your royal pardon. If there’s nothing amiss, I will be only too glad to sign it.”

Clegane reads it at least twice, then hands it back over with a curt nod.

Robb signs it.

“I will have Stannis sign it when he’s back here,” Robb says after putting his quill down. “After then I might as well give you the actual paper.”

“My thanks.”

“Very well. With this out of the way, let’s talk about the rest. Are your rooms to your satisfaction?”

“ _To my satisfaction_. If I had that kind of finery in King’s Landing I might have regretted leaving it at least some. Yes, Your Grace, they are.”

“I do not believe in making people in my service miserable, but glad to hear that. Now, you had time to think about my offer, yesterday. If there is something else you would rather do –”

“Didn’t I say I wanted to take it?”

“Still, since I am giving you the exact same mansions you had in King’s Landing and you didn’t seem to remember that place fondly, I figured I could ask twice.”

Clegane shakes his head once and mutters something under his breath, then he looks back up at him again. “Your Grace, as long as you don’t ask me to kill people on the basis of how much you dislike them or force me to beat young maidens in public, I doubt you would give me the _exact same mansions_ that Joffrey Baratheon gave to all the poor fools in his service.”

Clegane’s eyes go dark at _beat young maidens in public_. And Robb can’t help blanching at that.

“Let me guess. It was my sister, wasn’t it?”

“It never was me doing it, but yes, he did ask of Kingsguard members to beat her bloody in front of him. Just not on her pretty face.”

Robb thinks he wants to cry. “How did I fail her,” he tells himself.

“You couldn’t have.”

“Sorry?”

“She never blamed you once for any of that. And she knew you were trying.”

“All the same, I couldn’t do anything for her, did I? But that’s no matter. If you haven’t thought twice about it, ask to be brought to my quarters after lunch is done and you will be properly introduced to my lady wife.”

“May I ask you what does your wife think about this arrangement, though?”

“Of course you may. She said that she’s plenty glad of it, especially since I will have to go for King’s Landing with Stannis sooner rather than later and she doesn’t feel safe _now_. Let alone after I’m gone. That obviously means you will not be required to come with me when that happens. In any case, she’s more than happy to know that someone skilled with a sword might be looking out for spies. Of course, since it’s her you’re supposed to guard, you should talk to her about when you should be there and when you shouldn’t.”

“Seven hells, if I ever see your sister again she will laugh at me indeed.”

“Why would she?”

“Because she was entirely right about you and even if I only came here based on what she said, I hadn’t really thought it would be the case.”

“I will take that as a compliment then. I will see you after lunch time, then.”

Clegane gives him a curt nod and excuses himself – he still looks completely as if he hadn’t dared hope that things could turn out this nicely, and Robb can only understand him too well. Then he wonders how much Clegane did not like being in the Lannisters’ service, because after all Robb has merely been entirely fair to him, and he looks as if he had just offered him a kingdom instead.

Sometimes he wonders if the rest of the world is wired wrong or if it’s his own upbringing that would be frowned upon – the fact that the second answer is the most likely isn’t doing anything to make him feel better about any of this.

Well, there’s no point in wasting time pondering that kind of thing. Since it’s going to be a while until lunch, he decides that it won’t hurt to pay a visit to the blacksmith’s – he takes his time getting there, and then when he gets there he sees that his sister isn’t there and Gendry isn’t either.

“If His Grace is looking for his sister, well, since my apprentice was too busy discussing matters with her I saw fit to tell them to just go to the gardens and talk things out. Hopefully I didn’t –” the blacksmith starts, and Robb shakes his head.

“That’s fine, I will find her myself. Thank you.”

The gardens are a poor sight - winter is almost here and other than the occasional lily blooming on a bush, everything else looks quite dead. It’s also nowhere near as nice as Winterfell’s godswood, but this isn’t the time to think about Winterfell and how much he wants to go back.

He walks for a bit when he finally hears voices.

“ - _I only told you what happened_!”

“You’re just trying to rile me up, aren’t you?”

“M’lady, that’s the least -“

“Since when I told you that you could call me like that?”

Robb has to stop himself from laughing out loud and giving himself out – right. That sounds like his sister, for real.

“Fine, fine, your highness –”

“You’re still so _stupid_ , don’t you know that?”

“How flattering of you. My lady. And I wasn’t riling you up, before.”

For a moment no one says anything.

Then.

“So it’s not just Theon Greyjoy being trustworthy now, I have to buy that Jaime Lannister is?”

“I just told what happened. I guess so? He did turn his cloak.”

“It’s all so complicated,” she says, sounding as if she can’t make sense of things anymore. Robb can understand her even too well. He hears a few noises, steps, some leaves rustling.

“Don’t you tell me,” he mutters.

“Why?”

“Nothing of import,” Gendry replies entirely too quickly.

Robb has this suspicion that he didn’t tell Arya that small thing about his heritage, and since he wanted to speak to her anyway he might as well make his presence known. He makes sure to make some noise as he heads towards the sound of their voices – they’re sitting on a dead tree bark, and he has a hand on her arm, though the touch is extremely tentative.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Robb says, and the two of them look up at him – Gendry positively almost jumps to the other side of the bark. Robb maybe, just maybe, would like to laugh, but it’s not the point now, is it?

“Your Grace,” Gendry stutters. “Of course you wouldn’t –”

“Calm down, I only want a minute of my sister’s time. But I gather that you haven’t told her, did you?”

“Told me what?” Arya asks, sounding extremely interested.

“I figured it wouldn’t be of import, Your Grace, and –”

“What is the problem?”

Robb smiles ever so slightly. “Your friend here, I’m quite positive that his father might have been the late Robert Baratheon. I am only waiting for Stannis to get here so that I can have his opinion, but all evidence points in that direction.”

Arya’s eyes go wide and then she punches Gendry in the side hard enough that he yelps out loud.

“What was that for?”

“You thought it wasn’t of import? So that’s why the royal guard almost caught us outside King’s Landing!”

“It’s not a sure thing, really –”

“Oh, then why were they looking for _you_? You idiot, you should have told me!”

“And what does that change? So a king was my father, maybe, that don’t exactly make me a lord!”

Robb clears his throat. “That would be true at least for the moment, but don’t treat it as if it doesn’t change anything. Regardless, we should discuss it when Stannis gets here. For the moment –”

“Oh. Of course. You wanted to speak to her. I’ll, uh, I’ll just –”

“She will meet you at the blacksmith, ser,” Robb interrupts, and Gendry runs off without being told twice.

“He really is…” Arya starts and doesn’t finish. Robb sits next to her on the tree.

“I would be very surprised if he was not,” Robb replies. “Regardless, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. Yesterday – it wasn’t what I had pictured.”

She snorts and nods at him. “That wasn’t what I had thought, either.”

“And then this morning there was no time, obviously, and – I just figured this would be a better moment. I am really sorry, though.”

“It’s written on your face, Robb,” Arya says, and now she looks ten years older than she actually is. “You never were that good a liar. And I don’t understand why you – why you still would want _him_ around, but – after I got back here just thanks to the man who killed my friend Mycah and I find out that Jaime Lannister is out searching for Sansa, what do I know?”

That sounds – like she’s angry with herself? Robb reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

“None of us knew that much, evidently, since I think none of us hasn’t made some mistake at some point since – since Father became Hand. For all that matters, I wouldn’t have thought that about either Lannister or Theon either.”

“I swore myself I would kill his sister with my bare hands,” Arya says a moment later, her voice sounding very small.

“Why? Because of Father?”

“And because – that friend I mentioned before. The Hound _did_ kill him, but it was her fault. And Joffrey’s. Mainly. And now I have to trust her family?”

“The family you’re trusting has turned their cloak, but – Arya, you do know that you don’t have to kill her or anyone else?”

“ _Now_ , maybe, but before – before –”

She doesn’t say anything else, and lets out a small sob instead, and gods but Robb doesn’t want to know what happened to her for making her say such a thing, and so he doesn’t think twice before tugging her forward – she hides her head against his side and grabs a fistful of his cloak, and he runs a hand along her back while she cries into it, wondering when it was the last time that it happened save for the previous night, and he thinks he doesn’t want to know that, either.

At some point he feels that she isn’t crying anymore, but she doesn’t move either and so he puts his other arm around her, feeling entirely relieved when she clings back to him – for a moment he hadn’t been sure of how it would be received and isn’t that just entirely _stupid_ , as she’d put it?

This war has ruined them all, hasn’t it.

“I was so _worried_ you were at the Twins,” she sobs against his shoulder, and at that he feels even worse, because hasn’t he wished he had been there enough, in the last few months?

“Good thing your niece kept me from going there, then, isn’t it?” He’s entirely aware that his voice doesn’t sound entirely steady either.

“That’s still so strange,” she says, sounding a little less miserable. “But – yes.”

“What’s strange, that I’m not a green boy anymore? Are you doubting my heritage?”

“And I thought _Gendry_ was stupid.” She moves back a bit, her eyes completely red, but she does look a lot better if not exhausted.

“That was hilarious. And from now please leave the killing to me, all right?”

“I can try,” she agrees, sitting back down but still leaning against him.

“Good, because I highly doubt that was what Father meant for you when he let you take sword lessons.”

“How do you know that –”

“He did send me some ravens once in a while, you know.”

“Oh, stop it. Though – I guess you’re right.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he isn’t disappointed. Wherever he is right now. I’m not so sure it’s the case with me, but I will chance it, I guess.”

“What? Robb, he couldn’t possibly –”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t approve of a lot of the things I’ve done, and you can imagine which ones too well, but – I might have tried to be like him too much.”

“Now you’re being even more stupid. Well, I guess he would share my doubts regarding _someone_ , but - if I find so strange that you have heirs now, maybe I should find strange that they put you in charge at fifteen.”

Which is a perfectly good point, Robb has to concede. And one he agrees with, even if he can hardly say it out loud.

“… I am being stupid,” he admits with a sigh.

“Good that someone understands it.”

He has to laugh at that. “Come on, I can see you want to keep on telling _him_ how stupid he is. I just wanted to make sure – gods, Arya, the last thing on this earth I want is making you feel like I’m not taking your opinion into account or to make you feel… I don’t know, unwelcome just when we’re finally back in the same place. Yesterday evening was none of that.”

“I think I get it now,” she replies quietly, wiping at her eyes. “There was one thing you said – that you just wanted your friend back. Didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“When there was no one else, right?”

“Quite so.”

She takes a deep breath. “I won’t say I understand why you’d want _him_ , but – when I was at Harrenhaal and I was on my own, I’d have given anything to have Sansa back with me, and I thought I hated her for some time. Never mind Jon or the others. I guess I get it. I can’t fault you now, can I? Gods, Mother would have hated me, wouldn’t she?”

“For _what_?”

“For thinking I hated Sansa when I was in King’s Landing.”

“Arya, Mother _set Jaime Lannister free_ just so she could have the both of you back and - I guess Gendry told you.”

“He told me.”

Robb breathes in. He doubts they need details. “She didn’t hate _me_ for having sent her to that slaughter alone even if I couldn’t have known that, I guess, how could she ever hate you? Now you’re being even more stupid than Gendry and I put together.”

“You didn’t –”

“I just did.”

What he gains is a punch in the side that seriously makes him scream – he hadn’t expected it at all, and then she leaves, waving at him on her way to the blacksmith’s.

Robb feels like a weight just lifted off his shoulders.

\--

He knocks on Theon’s door before heading for his own room – knowing him, he hasn’t gone there on his own already.

He’s right – Theon tells him to come in. He’s sitting on the bed, glancing at his reflection in the mirror and looking nowhere near impressed with it, and then he forces himself to stand up and grab his cloak.

“… Did something happen?” Theon asks after taking a good look at him. “Something good, I mean.”

“I talked to Arya again,” he answers. “And it went a lot better than yesterday.”

“Oh. I’m glad. So, uh, she’s –”

“She will come around, I told you. And stop worrying. It’s all fine. Or it will be. And how are you instead?”

“As well as it can get.”

“You know, I can tell someone to take that mirror away if it makes you that miserable.”

“Am I that obvious? And it’s not that it makes me miserable, it’s that every time I look at it I hope _something_ might look a bit less bad, but - I’m deluding myself.”

“You know, when I decided that I liked you I was six and it was not for your incredibly good looks.”

Theon shrugs, not bothering to disagree, but Robb knows that’s not all there is to it.

Then he thinks that he might know.

“You know, you _are_ allowed to miss them, though. The incredibly good looks.”

When Theon suddenly looks down at the ground he knows he has this right.

“It’s… pretty stupid, though,” Theon admits after a bit with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t - I shouldn’t. I have more important things to miss. Like my bloody fingers.”

“I won’t argue but why wouldn’t you? I would.”

“You would.”

“Well, I remember that when you were fifteen and I was eleven I did envy you some of those good looks a lot.”

“You did _what_?”

“You were this tall, every woman with eyes in Winterfell made sure to look your way and you sure as the seven hells weren’t ugly. Meanwhile I just hated that suddenly you were even taller than I was. Of course I was. And there’s nothing wrong in wanting that back.”

“Except being delusional? I might want that back, fine, but I’m not getting it.”

“Maybe not all of it, but how long has it been? Give yourself a couple of years and stop punishing yourself when you’re having food, then we can talk about it again.”

“I doubt it’s that easy.”

“It can’t harm if you try it. But what brought this on?”

“Should something have?”

Robb just stares at him until Theon shrugs and cracks – it doesn’t take long.

“It’s just, when we were in the kitchens this morning.”

“What happened?”

“It was… a considerable length of time and there was very good light.”

“All right. And?”

“And I could use it to take a good look at you, and another good look at me, or what I could see anyway, and – and maybe it’s my turn now. Of – envying your _incredibly good looks_. Or –  
well, I don’t really envy them, but – at least before I didn’t look completely out of place when I was next to you.”

Of course the idiot is looking down at the ground when he says it. Not as if he’s expecting Robb to be mad, at least that, but as if he’s expecting him to be disappointed.

“You don’t look out of place now, for that matter,” Robb says before too much time passes and Theon takes his silence for assent.

“How? Bloody Florian and Jonquil were a lot less mismatched.”

“I should hope that I’m the fair maiden out of the two.”

“… _What_?”

“I’m not the one who going around doing heroic deeds for my _beloved_ and risking my life in the process, so I suppose I cannot be Florian, can I? And considering how that story ended, you really picked a poor comparison if you wanted to make the point I think you want to make.”

Theon looks back up at him as if he’s almost exasperated, but then - then he actually smirks for a moment, and after then it turns into a small smile that is actually quite sweet, almost fond, and Robb can’t go and tell him _if you glanced at yourself in the mirror right now you wouldn’t miss being handsome because when you actually do that it makes you look quite damn lovely_ , but he’s almost tempted to.

“I might really have made a very poor comparison.”

“Not that poor, if you ask me. For the most important parts, it’s probably not untrue. And before you ask me, yes, I mean that. Never mind that I doubt _Jonquil_ ever cared much for Florian’s looks, did she?”

“No, no she didn’t,” Theon admits quietly. Then he finally wraps the cloak around his shoulders. “And I distracted you too long with this nonsense. We should be going, and –”

“We should, but we still have a bit of time.”

“And what would you –”

Robb doesn’t even let him finish and slowly, carefully wraps an arm around Theon’s waist and one around his shoulders, effectively silencing him for the moment – Theon doesn’t move for a second but then his hands go to his back, grabbing fistfuls of his cloak, and he goes almost completely lax against him, which only makes Robb grip harder.

“And by the way,” he says, bringing up one hand so that his fingers brush against Theon’s hair – the color is still what it is, but at least it’s clean and so very soft, and it doesn’t look anywhere near as dead as it did back before he cut it –, “you _do_ know I don’t care about any of that, right?”

“And that’s why you’re completely mad, but don’t believe for a moment I’m complaining about it,” Theon replies, sounding as if he might be about to laugh and he’s trying not to do it, and a moment later he does that anyway, and as far as Robb is concerned it’s plenty good enough. He breathes in, committing the sound to memory because he hasn’t heard it in entirely too long, and for the first time in months he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can allow himself to think that he isn’t fighting a lost battle.

End.


End file.
